Saturday Afternoon
by Ardvari
Summary: Sara has a shower and... breaks things.


**A/N**: _Inspired by a suggestion ScullysEvilTwin made. This story is so perky and cheerful it makes me think of bubble wrap. Might become AU tomorrow…_

_Thanks as always to Princessklutz04 for the beta._

**Saturday Afternoon**

He loved Saturday afternoons. The tranquility that came with them, the freedom of being able to catch up on reading his journals, to just sit back and relax without having to worry that time moved just a tad too fast. With a contented sigh he turned the page, listened to the water running upstairs.

Sara had told him that she _needed_ to take a shower, she needed to get clean and she didn't _care_, at this point, if the cast on her arm got wet or not. She just wanted, _damn it_, a shower. Washcloths and a bit of water in the sink could only do so much, after all. A week without a shower and she was ready to crawl out of her skin.

Not that he blamed her.

So he had wrapped the cast in saran wrap and plastic bags while smirking at her snide remarks and had sent her on her way. He grinned at the image stuck in his head of her walking out of the kitchen, lips pursed, wrapped in a towel and her arm looking like something from outer space.

He flipped another page in the journal until suddenly the water stopped, followed by a clatter of what he presumed to be bottles of shampoo and shower gel falling into the tub.

"Shit… GRISSOM!" Sara's voice carried all the way down the stairs with an air of indignant urgency.

He put down the journal and walked upstairs, telling himself not to run because running whenever she yelled, called or said his name tended to piss her off. She kept telling him she was fine, really. The dog, yes, the dog was allowed to run whenever she called. He was _expected_ to run, toenails clickety- clicking and announcing his swift arrival. Grissom… not so much.

"Grissom?" she asked again, her voice sounding slightly desperate now.

"Coming!" he hurried the last few steps, barreled into the bathroom and found her standing in the shower with a bottle of shampoo in her hand. Stark naked, wet and cute. He knew she felt pathetic because Sara Sidle hated to ask for help and she'd had to ask for a lot of help lately.

"I can't get this thing _open_ with one hand and when I tried I knocked the shelf off the wall and hell, I don't think I can actually _shampoo_ my hair all by myself _either_." She looked at him as he tried very hard to suppress a smile, took in the chaos in the tub, bottles and razors and soap bars and washcloths surrounding her feet.

Without looking at her, for fear he might start grinning foolishly at the sight of her big eyes, of that pout creeping onto her face, he bent down, picked up the shelf and everything that had been on it and put it into the sink.

She held out the bottle of shampoo to him.

"Please?"

He sighed dramatically and began to unbutton his shirt, watching her raise an eyebrow. He pulled off the rest of his clothes keeping eye contact with her.

"It's easier if I'm in there with you. Also conserves water. Scoot over." She did, waited as he turned the water on and made her step underneath it while she held her broken arm up and out of the spray.

His hands moved to her scalp, weaved through her wet strands and she closed her eyes with a sigh, sounding sweetly amplified as it bounced off the tiles.

Sara had a thing for head massages.

Purring, her head slumped forward and she closed her eyes, a weird sight considering her arm was still held up like a strange backwards L. Water ran down her face, dripping down her eyelashes in tiny little rivulets.

Water nymph.

"Shampoo, please." he said, grabbed the bottle from her, popped it open and poured some of the shampoo into his hand.

The scent of grapefruit drifted up, it was a good scent, not too strong and not too sweet. A scent that automatically made him think of Sara.

She watched as he rubbed the shampoo between his hands, smiled at his concentrated expression and the slight, barely perceptible smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"Close your eyes, dear." he advised gently, lifted his hands to her head and began to rub the shampoo into her hair.

"Mmmmhhh feels good." she purred softly.

The nurses had washed her hair in the hospital but their hands had been quick and systematic, so unlike Grissom's. He took his sweet time, seemed to enjoy rubbing shampoo into her hair, combing his fingers through her wet strands.

By the time he was done she thought her bones had turned to rubber, her head was swimming and she wanted to somehow curl into Grissom, pulse through him, swim through his veins and be entirely surrounded by his warmth.

Finally he bent down and kissed her quickly before pushing against her forehead gently, getting her to tip her head back so he could wash the shampoo out.

"Hmmm… you know… if this is what life is like… I should break my arm more often." she quipped lightly, not expecting his hand reaching for her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

"Don't _ever_ say that again." He kissed her hard, running a hand through her silky wet strands.

"I'll wash your hair for you whenever you want but don't _ever_ say that again."

She snaked her good arm around his neck then, pulled him closer to her until they where both molded together under the warm spray, wet skin sliding on wet skin.

Her lips found his ear and quickly she flicked her tongue out, licked along his earlobe and grinned against his neck.

"Deal."


End file.
